The Last Digby Constance BretesGenre: Romantic Suspense/ContemporaryBones, bodies, and a love rekindled.

Paleontologist Caroline Priest is shocked when she finds a dead body at her dig site. When she calls it in to the sheriff's department, her former boyfriend, Rand Callahan, comes out to investigate. The evidence quickly starts to point to Caroline being the killer, and Rand has no choice but to arrest her.It's clear to Caroline that she's been set up, but by who and for what reason? While Caroline is out on bail, Rand rekindles his relationship with her as they try to solve the mystery before it's too late.Content Warning: contains some sexual content.

~Excerpt~

Rand stared at Caroline, taking in what she had just told him. "You lied to me," he retorted sharply. "First you told me that you didn't have a conversation with him, now you're telling me that you did. Your story is starting to fall apart. You need to tell me the whole truth. Was this man stalking you? Did he bother you in any way? Why did you go to his apartment and threaten him and then kill him?" Rand asked, his voice rose in anger."You've got to believe me! I did not go to this man's apartment!" Caroline said, her voice getting louder."If the man stalked you, bothered you, or abused you in any way, we can help get your sentence reduced. It would go a long way in the courtroom if you confessed and came clean with this now," Rand said, his voice still raised."I have nothing to confess," Caroline replied forcefully."How the hell did his cellphone end up in your SUV?" Rand's anger burst at her.Caroline recoiled at his temper. Then she snapped at him, her voice equally angry, "I don't know how it got there!""Well, you apparently had it in your SUV all along.""I don't know how that cellphone got in my vehicle," Caroline stated emphatically, slamming both hands on the table."It would be in your best interest if you confess or fill in the gaps of your story. You will be going down for murder one and a very long prison sentence." Rand jerked forward in his chair and looked into her eyes. His eyes were dark and angry.

Constance Bretes is an author of contemporary romance and suspense. Her romance books are often set in different parts of the country, but her favorite site is Montana. She's married to her best friend and resides in Michigan with him and a houseful of cats. When she's not at her regular 8-to-5 job, she can be found writing, researching, and spending time with her husband.

BOOK INFORMATION

BOOK SYNOPSIS

She’s going to break all of his rules...

Tech Sergeant John O’Donnell was never fond of his hometown. Too many reminders of poverty, his rocky family life, and the girl he was never allowed to have. Now he has exactly two weeks to sort out his mother’s finances before he heads back overseas. Two weeks that he’s determined to spend as far from his best friend’s little sister as possible.

Alea Heling has a naughty streak a mile wide. Sweet and simple? Boring. She’s been craving a bad boy like John since their wild days together in high school, and this time, she’s not taking no for an answer. But with every panty-meltingly hot encounter, Alea forgets one hard, cold reality—this soldier won’t let a fortnight turn into forever...and forever might be exactly what they both need.

BUY & TBR LINKS

EXCERPT

“Thank you for your help,” he said. His voice was rusty, but clear enough. She gasped in mock shock. “He speaks! Five words and it wasn’t rude!” Against his will, his lips twitched. She always could make him smile when he least wanted to. She leaned forward, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Let’s try something else. I know it’s dangerous—I mean, your head might explode or something—but I say we risk it. Give me a compliment.”

“Fishing?” he drawled.

He didn’t answer. Mostly because he was thinking of all the things he wanted to say. That her skin looked soft and her eyes were a changeable hazel that always kept him guessing. That her tits were round and full, just begging to be nipped. That she was small compared to his 6'3" frame, but she had legs long enough to wrap around his waist as he buried himself inside her. And that red hair, a bright red flash of color on her perfect body, was a scream of danger he lusted after.

While those thoughts spun through his mind, her expression soured. With a sigh, she grabbed his empty beer bottle and held it before his eyes. “Say something nice to me and I’ll get you another beer.”

She shook the bottle a little to grab his attention. It didn’t work. He was too busy watching how the breeze pressed her blouse flat against her chest. Her bra had lace, which meant texture, and he wondered what sound she’d make if he tugged it back and forth against her nipples.

“John–-” “That’s a nice b-blouse.” Damn it, he’d almost said bra. Her mouth flattened with a sigh. “I thought you’d like it.” Alea leaned forward as she pushed to her feet. A curl of brown hair tumbled forward, pushing past the tiny gold hoop in her ear to dangle right before him. Without thinking, he grabbed the lock, winding it around his fingers. It wasn’t even long enough to pull into his fist. But it was close enough to hold her still. Her eyes widened in surprise and her mouth—those plump, pink lips—formed a perfect O.

God, he’d been gone so long. And she was so much of a woman now. “John?” He wanted to say something, but he hadn’t the words. Just a thick want. He took a breath, trying to clear his head, but all he tasted on the air was her. A citrus scent, so appropriate to Florida and so missed when he was in Afghanistan. But there was another scent on top. The taste of woman, hot and spicy despite her demure yellow shirt.

He should let her go, but his fingers just wouldn’t cooperate. He tightened his hold. And when her hair started to slip through his grip, he pushed forward in his chair. He deserved one taste. He sacrificed so his country would be safe. One kiss was nothing when stacked up against that.

But if he was going to take her mouth—and he damn sure was—then he was going to take something else too...

AUTHOR BIO

KATHY LYONS writes light, funny, sexy stories for Harlequin Blaze. She loves the faster pace of category books and that her humor can shine through.

She leaves the dark, tortured love stories to her alter ego, Jade Lee.

Visit them both on the web at www.kathylyons.com orwww.jadeleeauthor.com!

In the final installment to the popular End of Days series, Heaven still belongs to a mad tyrant, and Michaela is losing her battle to save the dying world.But the tides are turning.With Gabriel’s fallen army, Michaela can finally start a war with the holy angels, which means she has to take care of the Watchers once and for all. What Michaela doesn’t realize is that her best friend has his own vengeful plan for the Watchers.Even amidst a war, Michaela and Gabriel bask in a sliver of happiness. With every touch and kiss, Michaela discovers a new home in Gabriel’s arms.Yet happiness is ever fleeting, and Michaela learns of a vision that foretells of the greatest sacrifice she’ll ever make for Heaven. But what is sacrifice in the face of tyranny and madness? It’s a lesson Michaela may not live long enough to fully understand.

Someone pressed himself against Michaela’s back, his hands twining around her stomach. She felt his lips on her neck, his breath in her ear. He said something, but Michaela couldn’t hear. Clark cocked an eyebrow at her and moved away slightly to dance with a petite girl in a fox costume.Michaela twisted in the man’s arms so that they were face to face. He was tall and lanky and definitely human. The pupils of his eyes were huge, dilated far beyond normal, and Michaela smelled the musky hint of drugs seeping from his mouth. His hands roamed over her body, groping her ass.There was no room to get away; the bodies in the middle of the floor were pressed so close together. For a moment, panic flooded through Michaela’s veins. Sure she could knock this guy out with one hit, but she didn’t want to bring attention to herself. She looked around, realizing that everyone was experiencing the same sort of free will she was. She had no clue how the human girls dealt with this sort of invasion.In her distraction, she didn’t realize the man in front of her was about to kiss her until the second before his lips smashed into hers. Immediately, his tongue pressed into her mouth, forcing her lips to part. His tangy salvia pooled at the back of her throat and gagged her. His hand slid up her side to fist around her breast.In that appalling moment, Michaela realized two things. The first being that Gabriel, who was very new to the whole sex thing, was very, very good at the sex thing. And the second being…Gabriel.He stood in all his tall, dark glory behind the man sucking on Michaela’s tongue. Lifting his hand as if he was going to tap on the man’s shoulder and ask to cut in, Gabriel pressed a finger onto on the man’s shoulder, making him instantly sag to the floor. Gabriel pressed harder into the pressure point on the guy’s neck until he was nearly on the floor and completely disengaged from Michaela.It was quiet and efficient. Gabriel righted the man and set him aside before he made too much of a scene. In the mass of pulsing bodies and underneath the flashing storm of rainbow lights, it was unnoticeable. The man moved away, slightly stunned and confused, but without a backwards glance.Michaela shrugged sheepishly at Gabriel’s blank stare. Only because she was looking at his mouth was she able to read his lips as he spoke. “Don’t kiss anyone else.”

About the Author

Meg Collett lives deep in the hills of Tennessee where the the cell phone service is a blessing and the Internet is a myth of epic proportions. She is the mother of one giant horse named Elle and two dogs named Wylla and Mandy. Her husband is a saint for putting up with her ragtag life. End of Days is her first series.

After five years on the run, Sunday has finally settled into a seemingly normal life in Columbia, South Carolina. What her two best friends don’t know is that Sunday has a secret past. She is the Incarnate, a conduit of mystical energy transcendent of the mundane and the divine. For most of her life, she served under Bernadette, the most powerful witch in the Northwest. Her power is terrifying, and what she remembers of her past—and what she doesn’t—haunts her. In the year that she’s been attempting to be anything but the Incarnate, Sunday has fought her abilities tooth and nail, but it’s been worth it. When Sunday joins her friends’ coven for an innocent gathering, Sunday discovers a darkness hidden beneath the blanket of the coven’s magic and she is determined to find out who is behind it and what she has planned.

For the last four years, Cyrus has been the point man on the contract to recapture the Incarnate and deliver her to the Pastophori of Iset. A gifted tracker and a fearless werewolf, he harbors a wild, inexplicable passion for the Incarnate that has driven him to hunt her. He was one of the original captors that brought her to Bernadette when his obsession with her began. Having found her, Cyrus and his pack find themselves torn between two objectives: take her by force and deliver her to yet another group of fanatics, or help her uncover the traitor among her coven.

Cristy Rey lives in Miami, FL. She is a reader and writer most of the time, and a knitter much less of the time than she was six months before she took up writing again.

Cristy writes the books that she likes to read. Her women are strong and out-spoken (most of the time), and her men run the gamut. Love stories abound in Cristy's work because, really, aren't love stories the best? Her stories also touch upon themes of identity, intimacy, family, and social issues. There's always a killer soundtrack running in the background of her novels - all you need to do is turn to the playlist to know what's up.If you met Cristy, you’d probably tell her that she’s tall since people seem to think that she needs to become aware of said fact. She and her friends get together to drink tea, eat scones, and talk about Sherlock—they sometimes pretend they’re a book club but that’s just their excuse to get together

AUTHOR A.J. BEST IS CELEBRATING THE 2 YEAR ANNIVERSARY FOR THE RELEASE OF HER BOOK FORGIVENESS WITH A COVER REVEAL CHECK OUT THE BOOK - THEN HEAD OVER AND GET YOUR COPY TODAY :)

BOOK SYNOPSIS

Mary is prepared for the anniversary of a lifetime. Ten years of wonderful memories fill her mind. She can’t wait to see what the next ten will bring. When her plans for early morning seduction fail, her mind jumps to worst case scenarios.

Joe’s attention, focused elsewhere, may be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Will he be able to come up with a good reason for forgetting their anniversary?

As the day continues, will the answers Mary finds leave her in tears? Will she find the next ten years dreams shattered before her? Only Joe holds the answers to the questions her heart asks.

EXCERPT

It seemed more and more lately that no matter how hard she tried, he looked right through her. It was infuriating and heart breaking. She'd had enough heartbreak during the past year to last her a lifetime. Her mother had been sick battling cancer all last year. Unfortunately she’d lost the battle. She’d made sure to pass on information to Mary while on her deathbed though.

Something Mary had never seen coming. She was adopted. Her world felt as if she had lost all control.

The adoption information that her mother had left with her will quickly found its way into the trash. Why would she want to find someone who didn't want her? She had enough instances of that in her own home. She did wonder, after a year, if she had reacted too rashly. You never know when you'll need family, and if she met her biological mother maybe she could figure out who she was, inside and out.

Mary plopped herself on the bed and let out a huge rush of air. There was no way Joe hadn’t noticed her outfit. She had bought it specifically for their ten-year anniversary night.

She remembered how she had anxiously awaited this evening and decided that she would make it perfect no matter how she was feeling. Every year on this day, they left the house at four twenty five and drove to the lake where he had romantically declared his undying love and proposed to her. He always hired a horse drawn carriage. The prancing steed would take them from the lake to a lovely candlelit dinner for two. After having one too many glasses of wine and a wonderful meal, they would enjoy a leisurely stroll to the theater. Wicked was currently playing on Broadway, and she couldn’t wait to hear the music that made her soul dance and her heart soar. Re-reading the book several times had her excited, and she knew the night would be perfect.

Then reality reared its ugly head.

Carefully she unlaced her corset and tossed the silky white thong in the corner; it still held the dampness from her unquenched desire.

"I can't believe I wasted my time and effort on this. Sometimes my husband is such a jerk," when she took a look around it dawned on her that she was talking to herself. Another deep breath and swish of hair and she mused, "I guess its okay to talk to myself as long as I don't answer back, huh CC?"

She slipped her silk robe on quickly and snatched the cat from his slumberous repose. He squirmed to free himself but Mary kissed his little nose first. "Don't be like your daddy, at least notice I'm here." She placed the cat gently on the bed and started her morning ritual. Getting ready for work was the last thing she was interested in.

AUTHOR BIO

Writing books has been a long time in coming for me. When I was younger, my father and I lived in a town where a kid could run the streets all ‘willy nilly’. When I was old enough to babysit myself I was off and running. To where you may ask, the library. At the time the library was in an old shop on a street in town. The children’s books were in the back room and that was where I spent my days. I was never without an adventure in my hands, and I never failed to finish the summer reading program with books to spare.
My love for reading didn’t stop there. My mother is an avid reader and she acquired most of her books from a exchange shop. You would purchase your books there, and return them for partial credit and get more. One night I was left with a bag of to be returned books. It was a Piers Anthony book, Night Mare to be exact. I devoured that book and any other that he has written. I currently am the proud owner of at least 70 of his books. I’m working toward getting them all, I wish he’d quit writing so quickly.

The writing bug caught me when my 12th grade English teacher wanted to use MY essay to show the class. He put it on projector film and everything. I was so excited. The assignment was to pick a month and write about it. Of course, being the child that I was I had to be difficult about it. The rest of the class chose June, July, April and went on and on about how lovely and warm and all of the fun things you can do. Mine was about December. I still remember the first line (and may have the transparency somewhere in my mess); December spreads her snow-filled wings and covers our world in cold despair.

From that paper on, you couldn’t stop me from writing. I found a few poems I had typed on an actual manual typewriter, and became a poet. I had a recurring nightmare, I wrote it down. I dreamed a dream and if I could remember it (which is harder now that I am older) I wrote that too.

In 2003 I started my first full blown manuscript. I still only have four chapters completed, but I swear I will finish it someday. I guess the short attention span has brought me full circle on writing short stories.

So, I guess that’s where I am today. Waiting for the first query letter to come through and make me a published writer. People ask me if I am a writer, and I firmly believe and tell them YES. I write, so that makes me a writer. I may not be published yet, but I will be.

I absolutely love to get email though sometimes with the scattered mind of a writer it takes a few days to get back to you! So please forgive me if I don’t get back to you right way, but I CERTAINLY will get back to you!

ajbestwrites@gmail.com
- See more at: http://ajbestwrites.com/contact/#sthash.qvMzIzxx.dpuf